


By the Sea

by tedaltmans



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: F/F, Mermaids, Pirate/Mermaid AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 18:36:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1195317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tedaltmans/pseuds/tedaltmans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Live and die by the sea, a pirate’s aphorism. It was America’s too. Before she considered living in the sea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Written for AmeriKate Week.
> 
> Wikipedia tells me that “merewif” is the Old English equivalent of “mermaid.”  
> Also, don’t ask me what time period this is set in because your guess is as good as mine.

America couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment she knew the Spangled Utopia was going under. Somewhere between the gusting winds, the rain pouring in sheets, and the lightning that lit the darkened afternoon sky like fireworks, her main priority became saving lives. The godforsaken Navy that had blasted holes in her ship sure wasn’t going to spare resources to keep a load of pirates from drowning. Not in this storm. There were holes in the keel, the cannonballs that made them weighing the ship down further. The helm was completely blown from the rudder. The front mast was laying perpendicular to the deck. There was no saving her.

The crew was on the verge of panicking—as they very well should be—but if they didn’t work together on this, none of them would survive. That old fall back ‘every man for himself’ ain’t going to work for this one, America snarled in her own mind and pulled on ropes until her hands burned and the masts followed her commands. And I’m trying to reign over pirates. 

She was going to get who she could off this damn boat before it became scrap lumber floating in middle of the sea. The rain pelted her from the side and soaked into her coat. The fabric was already rough and heavy, not any better weighed down and wet. She didn’t have time to shuck it off and leave it. She didn’t have time for anything but making sure this rig stayed afloat long enough for everyone to get off. She bent her knees and tugged, but the rope began slipping through her hands. Suddenly, her Quartermaster appeared beside her. His hands gripped the rope right above hers and he tugged with all his might.

“What can be lost is lost!” he yelled over the roaring storm and shouting crew. His hands were sliding down the rope as well, darker hands smashing hers as they tried to gain control together. “Rations and powder are packed. There’s no saving her, we’ll have to abandon ship!”

“Get everyone to the jolly boat,” she gave her orders calmly. America gave up on the mast. It was time; they were leaving. “We cut down in one minute.” He took off to pass the instructions to the rest of the crew, to round them up, grab what mattered, and hope they survive long enough to buy or take another ship. America headed straight for the jolly boats at the stern. One by one, her crew was loading onto the boats that would take them from one trap to another. Now was the moment to pick which was worse: sinking ship or open sea. They all bet their lives on two miniature vessels. 

America made a quick headcount and only stepped onto one of the small boats when she was sure her whole crew was present. The winds jostled and shoved the tiny vessel into the side of the ship but she gave the signal to lower anyway. These raindrops were nothing compared to the fight the sea would pick with them. 

They rocked and swayed as half the crew worked to inch the boat closer to the hurtling waves while the other half tried to steady their possessions. The whole thing suddenly lurched, dropping a few feet before jerking to a halt. The few crates they had been able to stash thumped loudly against the wood. Her Quartermaster barely managed to stay in the boat at all. Her Gunners tried pulling on the ropes still attaching them to the ship to no avail. The jolly boat was stuck.

“It’ll drag us under.” The Quartermaster was stating the obvious. They both knew how a ship worked and theirs was sinking. It would at least do the work of getting the jolly boat on the water itself. Problem was: someone had to detach it or all this was a waste. And they had to detach it evenly or the jolly boat would tip. The first jolly boat had made it down without a hitch. It was waiting for them, floating on the surface nearby with half the crew and half their supplies. Everyone was soaked, miserable, and terrified. America was Captain. She needed to do what was best for her crew. Her people didn’t deserve death. Not this way, not if she could help it.

“I’m cutting the line. I’ll have to do them both at once.”

She didn’t say goodbye. They didn’t want to hear it. She simply nodded toward her Quartermaster, probably the new captain if they made it, and heaved herself over the railing and back onto the ship’s main deck. America clung the thick wood as she felt the Spangled Utopia sinking further into the water. She didn’t have to wait long for the ship to submerge enough that the jolly boat was feet away from the surface.

Signaling down to the crew that it was time, America drew her double cutlasses. They were meant to be handled one at a time, but the situation called for a longer reach than she had. She tightened her fists on the grips and steadied her hold. She brought both down simultaneously, a cutlass on each side slicing through the ropes tying the jolly boats to a death trap. Her blades sunk into the wood of the ship and the ropes slithered over the sides like snakes to free her crew. She couldn’t hear the verifying splash of the boat hitting the water through the sounds of the storm.

America leaned over the Spangled Utopia’s railing to confirm for herself that the boat and stayed level and everyone had stayed onboard. She holstered her cutlasses and examined her options. Pirate Captains didn’t go down with their ships. Not if they didn’t have to—plunder didn’t do much for you if you were dead. If she could wait long enough and the jolly boats were still close, she could rejoin them. Throwing one leg over the railing, America intended to wait it out until she could jump back into the boat. It would be a tight squeeze, but she could manage.

At that moment, a particularly strong gust of wind thwarted the best of her efforts. Knocked sideways, her hip and shoulder banged into the solid wood as she was cast overboard. She managed one last gulp of air before crashing into the depths of the blue ocean she’d grown to love.

Everything was ice cold. Between the anger of the sea and her heavy clothes dragging her down, she could feel herself trapped in the currents. Fighting for her ship’s life, against the Navy and then against nature itself, left her arms tired. The extra weight of her weapons weighed her down further. America thought of her Cook, the nice one who always had a smile on his face and a fondness for her Navigator. She thought of her Quartermaster with his tinted eyeglasses. She thought of her Bosun and her Carpenter who always bickered and her cheerful Cooper who kept the peace between the both of them. She was even lucky enough to have two Gunners, one who specialized in being strong and one who specialized in being fast. She closed her eyes, hoped their jolly boats made it somewhere dry, and exhaled.

She never expected to open her eyes again.

She especially never expected to open her eyes again and be on land, lying in sand with a gentle tide lapping at her legs and the sun warming her bare skin.

“Are you awake?”

The voice speaking was like nothing America had ever heard before. Feminine and sweet, spinning words into a song just for her ears. She tried to turn her head toward the melody, but her mind was groggy and her muscles heavy and neither were willing to obey her wants. 

“Don’t try to move yet.” Soft hands caressed her shins, her calves, her ankles. “The ocean takes a lot out of you if you aren’t built for it.” America disregarded the advice. That voice was so smooth and those hands so delicate, she needed to see their owner.

America lifted her head forward and bent her chin toward her chest. Her eyesight was foggy and the corners of her eyes stung where she could still feel salt clinging to her skin. She could make out a blurry form near her legs, past her feet where her boots had been removed. Flexing her arms, she noticed her coat and holsters had been removed as well. Apparently, her caretaker had noticed her adjustments.

“Your things are all farther up the beach. I understand that some things shouldn’t stay wet.” America nodded in agreement. With her head pillowed on the sand, she blinked in rapid succession to clear her vision. Blue sky and white puffs of cloud appeared above her and she tried once more to view her company.

Once she did, America was certain she had died. Gone under with the ship and gotten swept up in the current. Drowned, eaten by some creature in the depths of the sea, resting in Davy Jones’ locker because this had to be a vision. Sitting at her feet was an incredibly beautiful—and very naked—woman. Her dark hair was wet and slicked backward, trailing over her shoulders in long strands and resting against her bare breasts. She was decorated with pearls and other jewels America had never seen, some laid into a crown that settled around her forehead and bracelets on her wrists. One exceptionally large pearl was nestled into her navel. 

America stared at the women for a few moments, both admiring and questioning. While she looked as any other woman did, her pale skin was also tinged with lavender. Trios of dark purple lines of miniscule scales lined either side of her neck. At her belly, her skin started blending into those same scales, and where she should have had legs she instead had long fish’s tail that forked into nearly translucent lavender finds at the end. They were flicking lightly in the water, matching the incoming tide and glinting in the sunlight. 

“I’m Kate.” The woman—mermaid—smiled brilliantly. Her hands were still gently stroking at America’s ankles. America stared, transfixed on the tail. She didn’t know what to make of this situation: she didn’t believe in heaven, but this definitely wasn’t hell. She had heard the tales of sirens: every sailor with half a sea-leg had heard of them. Sometimes they were goddesses and sometimes they were monsters. America had never considered they were real.

“Can you speak?” America jerked her eyes back to the merma—Kate’s face. Her eyes were as blue as the sky, tinged with a purple that matched her tail around the outer edge. America tried to voice an answer. The words scratched at her dry throat and she only managed a pitiful croak.

“Oh, of course, how could I have forgotten?” She reached to the sand somewhere beside her and produced what looked to be a canteen. When she went to unscrew the cap, America could see webbing glistening between her fingers. 

“Here. It’s fresh. That’s what humans need right?” Kate offered the open canteen. Slowly but gratefully America nodded and accepted the item, her muscles still protesting movement. She brought it to her mouth and gulped the water down. In her frenzy, some of the water missed its mark and ended up dribbling down her chin and onto her already damp clothes. The drink soothed the dry cracked skin of her lips and wet her throat enough to enable her to speak again. 

“Who are you?” America’s voice was still rough and half of her question came out as a whisper.

“My name is Kate. I found you in the ocean.” She urged the canteen back to America’s lips. “Well under the ocean I suppose.” Kate reached out and stroked America’s cheekbone with her fingertips. “Humans aren’t supposed to be that far under the ocean so I brought you back here. I’m what sailors call a siren. We call ourselves merewif. Or mermaids, if you prefer.”

With that hand against her cheek, America could feel the webbing between Kate’s fingers. She gently took that hand between both of hers, turning it over in her grasp to inspect it. The webbing was the same translucent lavender of her tail fins. America ran a single finger over the section of webbing between the thumb and index finger. Kate let out a high-pitched giggle in response.

“That tickles!” She squirmed beside America, but didn’t remove her hand from her grasp. She leaned across America’s legs, her other hand in the sand supporting her stance. “Why don’t you share who you are? I’ve never seen a sailor as fine as you.”

America would have blushed if she had that kind of energy to spare. At the moment, she was still mostly sure this was some kind of dream sequence and not at all real. Why waste embarrassment in a dream?

“America, Captain of a wrecked ship,” she answered. She didn’t have to lie to a dream, either. She wanted to add a ‘thank you’ to Kate for saving her, or at least for letting her enjoy death, but America still wasn’t convinced she was talking to someone tangible.

“Captain?” Kate positively beamed before her smile faltered. “So the ship, it was yours?”

“Not anymore.” America tipped the last drops of water from the canteen into her mouth. Kate took the item and held it in front of her with both hands. She closed her eyes, exhaled, opened them again, and handed it back to America. The exchange took no longer than a minute, but America could feel that the canteen was once more filled with water. She sipped, it was fresh.

“Magic too?” America still felt exhausted, her muscles objecting to their continued use, so she laid back against the sand. “I’m definitely dead.”

“No!” Kate stretched out on the sand beside her, chest pressed against the beach and the ends of her tail curling upward toward the sky. Sunlight glinted against the wet scales of her tail. She rested one hand on America’s abdomen and warmth radiated from her navel throughout her skin. The pain in America’s muscles quieted for a moment. “I saved you. You’re not dead.” 

America shifted beneath Kate’s palm. The longer the mermaid’s hand was on her, the more clear her head felt and the looser her muscles became. She rolled her head to the side to face those purple-tinged eyes.

“How are you doing this?”

“I have many powers of the merewif,” Kate replied, as if America would understand what it meant. “I saved you. I can provide you with what you need.”

“Where are we?” Honestly, Kate wasn’t convincing America she hadn’t died. Turning her head around the other way, America tried to take in her surroundings. There was a sparse beach as far as her eyes could see and a thick crop of palm trees a few meters inland.

“We don’t name pieces of the surface.” Kate removed her hand and America distinctly felt the loss. She was pleased to find that Kate simply wanted to move to cupping her jaw instead. “But you won’t have to stay here if you do not wish. You can return to the sea with me.”

America stared. Kate smiled sweetly.

“I chose to save you so you will be welcome among the merewif.”

“So I would be a—” America gestured downward, indicating the difference between Kate’s sleek tail and her two legs.

“Yes.” Kate turned onto her side to face America. She didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the sand sticking to her damp skin. She slid her other arm up to prop her head against, hair cascading onto the beach in dark loops.

“How?” 

“I’ll change you.”

“I got that part, but how?”

Kate propped herself on her hand and leaned forward slowly. She pressed their lips together chastely, but America felt the warmth of Kate’s power coursing through them. When Kate lounged against the sand once more, America’s eyes cast downward.

“Oh.”

“You’ll be free to go wherever you like.” Kate said as she traced a delicate finger from America’s jaw line over her cheekbone, connecting all the freckles that dusted her light brown skin in a light pattern. “But I hope you’ll stay with me.”

The air left America’s lungs in a rush. She was no stranger to these feelings, whether they lust or love or somewhere in between. She’d been with women before she’d become a sailor, before she’d become a pirate, before she’d become a captain. The past few years had been lonesome as she had only made port when necessary and made it a point not to have relations with the women aboard her ship. But looking at the mermaid beside her, gazing at her with hopeful eyes and asking her to stay, America’s heart skipped a beat. Did someone who was dead get to make this kind of choice?

America certainly hoped so.

She nodded and reached out to brush Kate’s cheek. Her hand slipped behind her head, dark fingers curling in darker hair as her thumb settled just in front of Kate’s ear.

“Why did you save me?” The question posed was barely a whisper, but Kate’s eyes were focused on America’s lips and that helped her understand. 

“I told you. I’ve never seen a sailor as fine as you.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“I’d like to.”

“I’m a pirate.”

“You sacrificed for the others.” America jerked backwards. 

“You were watching?”

Kate visibly shrank, her shoulders hunching as though she’d been caught doing wrong. She lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I wanted to keep you safe,” she answered quietly.

The response silenced any remark America could have given. Instead of replying to the confession in words, America leaned in and rested her forehead against Kate’s. Their noses bumped slightly and America sighed.

“And I’ll be able to stay with you?”

“I would be very pleased if you did.”

America nodded. She didn’t know what it was about Kate. She didn’t know why she trusted this creature of legend. She didn’t know why she suddenly believed in magic. Maybe this was death after all. What America did know was that in this moment, she wanted nothing more than to stay with Kate. If becoming a mermaid herself was a means to that end, then so be it.

“It will be easier without your clothes.”

America couldn’t stop the snort that escaped. She didn’t think Kate was trying to be funny. There was no way she could have known that this was not the first time America had heard that exact phrase. She moved her hands to the fastenings of her trousers before Kate became too concerned.

She didn’t expect Kate’s hands to follow. Sitting up on the beach, Kate aided America in undressing and once the buttons were undone, Kate didn’t pause in slipping the fabric over her hips. As her trousers were dragged down her legs by those webbed hands, America took care of her loose-fitting shirt. As it went over her head her tied mass of curls swung free, showering her in sand grains. America felt exposed, being naked on a beach, but Kate didn’t seem to have a problem with her own nudity. She did notice Kate didn’t seem to want to look away from her legs. America wondered if that was because they were legs or because they were hers.

“Come,” Kate instructed. “You’ll need the water when you change.”

She scooted further into the water herself, using her tail to propel forward. America was impressed that she only needed a foot or so of water before she was able to swim. The sand that had been stuck to her body instantly washed away and her skin gleamed beneath the surface of the ocean. Her tail helped her glide gracefully for a few meters before she returned to the beach. With one hand, Kate beckoned America to follow her into the shallow water. America stood slowly. She didn’t feel pain or grogginess any longer but it felt like it had been years since she stood on her own.

Her legs supported her weight though her steps felt wobbly. She shuffled forward three paces, bringing the water level to her knees. While the sand was rough against her bare feet, the water was cool against the skin of her calves. Kate flipped her tail against the surface, effectively spattering America in tony clear droplets.

America wiped her face with her sleeve and leveled a glare at her companion. The tide lapped at her legs, encouraging her to come further into its depths. She followed their advice, stepping forward until her thighs, hips, abdomen, chest, and shoulders were submerged. Kate occupied herself by swimming in circles around her, never straying too far before coming back around.

“Alright,” America started. If she walked any further forward, she would be forced to start swimming to keep her head above water. “How does this work?”

Kate broke the surface directly in front of her and steadied herself against America’s shoulders. Thankfully, she had been able to hear the question even as she swam beneath the surface. Her freshly wet hair was slicked behind her and splayed out across the surface. America could feel the strong sweeps of her tail treading water to keep her afloat.

“As you change, we’ll both go under,” Kate explained, “then we stay there.”

America nodded and breathed in deep, cherishing the feeling of the crisp, salty ocean air in her lungs. Kate had no problem breathing above water so America assumed she wouldn’t either, after she changed, but what else did a person do before they turned into a mermaid? Maybe America still had a hard time believing that Kate was real and this wasn’t the end.

“Ready?” Kate asked softly. America nodded again.

That was all the encouragement Kate needed before she leaned forward and pressed their lips together. America’s were still rough and chapped but Kate’s were smooth against them. Warmth spread from their kiss across America’s cheeks. She could feel it traveling over her skin, down her neck and through her chest. She wound her arms around Kate’s waist, her fingertips brushing the tiny scales that began the morph between human torso and fish tail. Kate’s hands moved from America’s shoulders to cup the sides of her neck.

That warmth reached all the way to America’s toes and grew hotter. She felt as though she were boiling, scalding in a fire. Fighting her instinct to break away from the heat, America tightened her embrace. When Kate began sinking, she followed.

While their kiss remained chaste, Kate keeping the contact between their lips without breaking away, America was still left breathless. As Kate dragged her beneath the water’s surface her immediate thought was that this was a sure sign of her death. She wasn’t going to let go of the woman in arms and she would surely drown because of it.

Then, Kate was moving her hands away from America’s neck and suddenly America wasn’t gasping for air any longer. They were still pressed together, Kate even taking an opportunity to tilt her head and deepen their kiss, but America no longer felt a need to breathe. The heat of Kate’s magic still threatened to consume her, but America became aware that her own hand had instinctively moved to her neck. She could feel the subtle roughness of scales formed into neat lines and realized that this transformation was truly taking place. She had grown a set of gills.

America smiled against Kate’s lips. She took a chance and flicked the tip of her tongue against the swell of Kate’s bottom lip. Attempting to replace her hold, America tried threading her hand through the silky black hair floating about Kate’s head like a halo only to find she wasn’t able. Translucent, blue-tinged webbing had weaved between her fingers so she settled for cupping the back of Kate’s head instead. 

The intense burn of magic was now searing. America took that to mean the largest change was taking place: transforming her legs into a tail. The gills and webbing had come without warning and without pain and she hoped this last bit would be much the same.

The pair bumped against the sea floor, still shallow enough to be sand. So far, America didn’t feel any different. The burning sensation persisted, blazing through her body before it suddenly dulled into a smolder. 

Kate broke away from her, smiling. When she exhaled, a group of tiny bubbles poured from her nose and mouth.

“It’s finished,” she said. America was startled but pleased to find that the melody of Kate’s voice remained much the same as it sounded on land.

When she looked down, her legs had been replaced with a long, deep blue tail. Her darker scales were inlaid with lighter silvery-white ones periodically, especially as the tail morphed into her torso. She gave a tentative kick, the same command she might have given her legs if she still had them, and her tail gave a powerful wave. America glided a few feet backward, taking Kate along with the movement. The other mermaid giggled.

“You’re already a very good swimmer. Would you like me to show you around?”

In response, America just wrapped her arms around Kate’s waist and kissed her again.


End file.
